


First Contact

by jericho



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I might as well come right out and admit it. It's just a drunken conversation that leads to sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2000 and probably pretty bad.

Howie Dorough was drunk. Drunk as hell. Drunk as fuck. At first he thought he might just be tipsy, but as he sucked on the straw in his vodka and orange juice - which he didn't even usually drink, because orange juice was so fattening - he realized he was inebriated. Plastered. Embalmed. Absolutely pickled. 

He realized this around the time that he stared out at the swirling club. It wasn't the sort of place he would have gone on his own, but Chris had invited him. Chris was spending two days in Toronto, and Howie had a week off, which Chris knew. Howie brought AJ along so Howie and Chris wouldn't end up fucking. Chris brought along Joey, probably for the same reason. 

The club was, for lack of a better word, alternative. It wasn't that the lifestyle was alternative. That would have been a lot more interesting, and when Howie thought that he snickered to himself. It played remixes of bands Howie had never heard of. It played the sort of music that would be the soundtrack to a movie that showed a group of rebellious youth outside a high school. 

AJ set a shooter in front of Howie, looking triumphant. 

"Oh, God," Howie moaned. "I don't need that." 

"Just drink it. It's a sweet drink." 

Howie smiled at the table. "Sweeeet." 

"Sweeet," AJ agreed. "It's a chick drink." 

Howie picked up the shooter and examined it in what little light there was. It looked orangey-brown. Not too intimidating. "What is it?" 

"A Broken Down Golf Cart. Seriously. It's really weak." 

AJ sat down across from him, except AJ's shooter was clear and had a lemon attached to it. AJ held up the shot glass and Howie followed suit. 

"Here's to not giving a fuck," AJ said. 

"I'll drink to that." 

Howie opened his throat and downed the shooter, licking his lips and setting the empty shot glass on the table. 

"Damn," he said. "That's good." 

"They are good, aren't they?" 

Howie touched the bottom of the glass and sucked on his finger. "I could drink, like, a bottle of that. What's in that?" 

"Fuck if I know," AJ replied. "I always get it for the ladies." 

"Oh. Thanks." Howie rolled his eyes but it set the entire room in motion. "Where's Chris?" 

"Downstairs. Dancing." 

And Chris could. They all could. Even if someone in this club recognized them, they probably wouldn't care. Someone recognized AJ while they were waiting for the coat check. AJ called her "sweetheart" and kissed her on the cheek. And that was it. AJ was recognizable everywhere he went, with the tattoos and the multi-colored hair. Howie just blended in with the scenery, to the point where he thought he could walk through one of his own concerts without someone recognizing him. 

A younger guy walked by slowly, dressed entirely in black, his eyes lingering on the table a second longer than normal. Howie watched him. Watched every step he took. Imagined the lean body under the dark clothing. The guy smirked back a little and kept walking. 

"Oh, don't do that," AJ said, breaking Howie's reverie. 

"What?" 

"You gave him fuck-me eyes." 

Howie threw up his hands. "I didn't!" 

"You did." AJ took a swig of his beer and pointed straight at Howie. "You had that 'come here, big boy' look on your face. You do that all the time. Sometimes I think you don't even realize it." 

"Well you give everyone fuck-me eyes. I don't know what _you're_ talking about." 

AJ leaned across the table more, probably out of necessity because the music was loud. "Yeah, but I do it to be nice. You do it to get fucked." 

"Yeah. And that happens so often." Howie laughed loudly and took another intense sip of his drink. 

AJ blinked. The red and blue lights danced across his face and disappeared. "It doesn't?" 

Howie leaned in closer, the alcohol making him more truthful than he should be. "AJ, do you know how long it's been?" 

AJ's eyes were wide. "How long?" 

"Like..." Howie held out his hand and counted on his fingers. "Eight months." 

AJ let out such a harsh laugh that Howie almost cringed. "You haven't had sex in eight months?" 

Howie dropped back against the seat, waving his hand absently in the air. "Yeah. Well. Who would I do it with?" 

"I don't know. Someone. Anyone. Are you serious?" 

"Yeah." Howie took such a hard sip of his drink that his eyes widened. 

"That's..." AJ seemed like he might say something insulting, but he stopped himself. "You should just have sex." 

Howie set his glass back on the table for emphasis. "Okay. I'll do that. I'll stand up and be like 'excuse me, people. I'm just going to have sex now. Anyone who's interested, form a line.'" 

"There has to be a lot of people out there who would have sex with you." 

Howie tried to focus on AJ, but AJ wavered slightly. "If I knew who they were," Howie said simply, "I'd be doing it right now." He took another gulp of his drink, just for good measure. 

"I'll sleep with you." 

"Yeah." Howie let out a hard, laugh-like sound, although it wasn't actually a laugh. "That would cause a neat sort of chemistry in our group." 

AJ leaned in even closer, and the lights made his hair look purple. "You've been my best friend for...what?" 

Howie shrugged. "Six years? Seven? Awhile." 

"Right. And we know it's just sex. It's out of...necessity. Like those guys who are stuck in the middle of nowhere and eat the dead members of their crew." 

Howie threw his head back and laughed loudly. 

"What?" AJ asked. 

"For a minute there I was worried that you'd compare it to something gross." 

"That's not what I mean. I just mean..." AJ tapped his fingers on the table. "I've wanted to do it for awhile." 

Howie raised an eyebrow. "Sleep with me?" 

"Yeah." 

Howie shrugged again, and his whole body felt sluggish. "Okay." 

AJ perked up noticeably. "Want to go right now?" 

"Sure." 

Howie finished the rest of his drink, until the straw hit the bottom of the glass and made that scraping, gurgling sound. He stood up and followed AJ through the crowd, because AJ seemed to know where to go. 

"This is a huge mistake," Howie mumbled as they descended the stairs. 

"I know," AJ said. "But we'll worry about it tomorrow." 

"Okay." Howie focused on AJ's back, reaching out to brush his hand across it as they followed the path to the exit sign. 

  



End file.
